


It's Just a Scratch!

by slowly-losing-my-mind (ironthesun)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad Secret Santa 2019, Not Beta Read, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Bucky Barnes, Some Swearing, Stabbing, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironthesun/pseuds/slowly-losing-my-mind
Summary: When Peter is stabbed whilst out on patrol, he swings himself to the Tower to fix himself up. Tony is busy at an important meeting, so he doesn't want to interrupt the man with something silly like this. And the rest of the Avengers are away on a mission, so it's not like they can really help. Peter knows where the first aid kit is. He can sort himself out. Right?Prompt: Any kind of fluff/angst or hurt/comfort IronDad plot that also heavily involves Rhodey or Happy or Bucky as part of the support squad. Domestic or battle settings are both good!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 21
Kudos: 439
Collections: Iron Dad Secret Santa 2019





	It's Just a Scratch!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sparrow (hersilentlanguage)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hersilentlanguage/gifts).



> This story is a gift for **hersilentlanguage** as part of the **Irondad Secret Santa Gift Exchange**! The prompt for this fanfiction was: Any kind of fluff/angst or hurt/comfort IronDad plot that also heavily involves Rhodey or Happy or Bucky as part of the support squad. Domestic or battle settings are both good!
> 
> Let me just say now that this is the second fanfiction I've written and completed in years! The first being another submission for this gift exchange which was written alongside this one. I know I'm a bit rusty, but I think it turned out quite well!!
> 
> Anyway, a very Merry Christmas to **hersilentlanguage**!!! All the best for the new year, and please enjoy this fanfiction!

When Peter left for Patrol this evening, the last thing he expected was to be stabbed by a lunatic with a kitchen knife. But here he was: in a dirty alleyway, gazing up at the sky as he lay on his back, an overflowing rubbish skip on his left and a gigantic stab wound in his right side.

The lunatic in question was nowhere to be seen. Though Peter didn’t know for sure, he suspected the man had been high on something – possibly Green Goblin, a new synthetic hallucinatory drug making its way through New York. But high or not, it had been a quick and lucky thrust that found its target and had the man very quickly coming to his senses before withdrawing the knife from Spider-Man’s side and fleeing the scene. While Peter knew he should be more concerned about the high lunatic with a knife running around the streets of Queens at 7pm on a Tuesday evening, he really didn’t have the mental bandwidth at the moment to give much more thought to it. Instead, all he could focus on was the flood of blood coming from his side, and the overwhelming pain that had tears forming in his eyes.

Through pained breaths Peter muttered to himself, “It’s just a scratch. Yeah,” he sighed out a chuckle. “I’m- I’m okay. It’s just a scratch.” If he said it enough, Peter was sure he could convince himself it was true. There would be no need to worry if it was just a scratch, and he really didn’t want to worry about it not being a scratch right now.

"Peter,” that was Karen’s voice; soft and gentle as always. “FRIDAY is currently downloading software upgrades and I am unable to reach her. Would you like me to contact Mr Stark directly?" As soft and gentle as Karen’s voice was, Peter still found himself flinching at the sound. It was almost offensive in its sudden intrusiveness and Peter found himself squeezing his eyes shut for a second to calm himself. His senses were beginning to feel more sensitive than usual, and his breathing was starting to wheeze with effort.

Though Peter would have loved nothing more than to agree to that, to have Mr Stark come and get him and make everything better, he found himself saying through gritted teeth, "No, no. No, that’s not-” he took a break to cough, “No, Karen. It's not that urgent, I'll be fine. It’s just a scratch. Really"

There was a slight mechanical hum from Karen before she spoke again, "My scans suggest it might be more significant than a scratch, Peter. I recommend getting medical assistance as soon as possible. Contacting Mr Stark would help accomplish this quickly."

"Karen, really. No. Look, I- I'll just- I'll swing to the Tower, o- okay?” Peter coughed a little more. “A- and then I'll wait- I'll wait for him there. Don’t call him, h- he’s busy." As much as Peter really wanted to give in and have Karen call Mr Stark, he was determined not to. There was an important meeting on today, something to do with the Accords that Mr. Stark had to attend. He’d mentioned it over the weekend when they were tinkering in the lab together, and though he never went into detail, he’d made it out to sound really important and Peter knew he couldn't interrupt that.

As for the other Avengers, he’d heard there was some kind of mission in Eastern Europe. A HYDRA thing, if he remembered correctly. And as far as he knew, everyone bar Mr Stark had gone. So even if he wanted their help, they’d be too far away to be of any use. So, he could wait. He could get to the Tower and patch himself up. Peter knew there was a good first aid kit in the Tower’s communal kitchen, so he could use that easy-peasy. It was going to be fine.

***

Turns out, swinging with a stab wound is actually really hard. In retrospect, Peter should have seen that coming, but he didn’t. Maybe it was blood loss, but if Peter was honest with himself, he really wasn’t thinking straight right now. In fact, he wasn’t really thinking at all. Instead, he was currently hunched over on his hands and knees, on a roof not too far from the Tower. If he really tried, he could probably get there in two, maybe three more swings. But Peter’s head was spinning and his breathing hard. He was coughing and wheezing, and he was fairly sure there was blood coming up if the sudden wet and metallic taste in his mouth was anything to go by. His head was dizzy, his side was on fire. It was so painful. And Peter couldn't stop the tears that fell as he fought to get his breathing under control.

He was vaguely aware of Karen talking to him, encouraging him to call for help. When he grunted in dissent, she began encouraging him to keep going instead. Pushing himself back to his feet, Peter took a quick glance down at his right side. Although he'd webbed up the wound with layers and layers of webbing before beginning his journey, it hadn’t taken long for the blood to seep through. In the dim evening light, Peter could hardly tell where the bloody webbing ended and his suit began.

After a few deep breaths, Peter took off again. It took him precisely four more awkward and ungracefully swings to reach the Tower’s balcony; the one that lead right into the communal kitchen and living room. When he finally managed to climb up and over the balcony railing, he fell to the floor with a solid thump.

“K- Karen,” he hitched out through gasps and wheezes, “is Mr. S- S- Stark back yet?”

“Sorry, Peter. I cannot confirm. FRIDAY is still downloading upgrades and remains unreachable. Would you like me to contact Mr Stark directly and let him know you’re here?”

Peter grumbled in disagreement and heaved himself up off the ground. “A scratch, Karen. Ju- Jus- Just a scratch.” Peter’s voice was rough as he spoke, and he stumbled slightly as he made his way over to the balcony door. Peter slid it open and tripped inside. With delayed senses, there was no time for him to break his fall as he fell forward and landed flat on his face; a terribly loud crack could be heard as Peter’s nose impacted with the floor.

“Jesus Christ!” A voice shouted, followed by the sound of feet against the floor running toward him. “Peter!? What the hell happened?” The voice – distinctly gruff and masculine – was right above Peter now, as the man crouched down to roll Peter onto his back. It was Bucky. The man pulled off Peter’s Spider-Man mask and took in a sharp gasp of air at the sight of Peter’s face; a bloody mess now, thanks to the broken nose and the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Fuck, kid!” He hauled Peter against his chest as he patted the boy down, searching for any other injuries. When his hand came to the bloody webbing on Peter’s right side, Peter let out a long whine and tried to flinch his body away from the contact. “Shit, Peter. Shit, shit, shit.”

As gently as he could, Bucky lifted Peter up and brought him to the sofa closest to them. Paying no mind to the sofa’s pristine white fabric, Bucky carefully lay Peter down then ran to the kitchen to fetch the first aid kit. “B-Bucky?” Peter mumbled lightly, “I thought- I thought you were- were on a mission.” He winced as Bucky returned from the kitchen and experimentally prodded the web-covered injury. The man’s brows were deeply furrowed as he focused on assessing the situation, but there was no mistaking the worry in his eyes.

“It’s a Hydra mission so I chose not to go. We gotta get this suit off ya kid, so I can see what we’re dealin’ with. The spider, right?” When Peter nodded weakly, Bucky pushed the spider emblem on Peter’s chest. As soon as the fabric of the Spider-Man suit loosened, Bucky made quick work of pulling the top half down off Peter’s body and let it gather at the boy’s hips.

Peter let out a whine as the fabric and web was peeled away from the wound. “Fuck, kid. Sorry about that,” Bucky said, unhappy that he was causing Peter more pain, but understanding that the suit needed to come off and there wasn’t really another way to do it.

“It- It’s fine. Jus- Just a scratch.” Peter coughed out.

Bucky couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips at that. He smoothed his hand over Peter’s hair, letting it rest there for a moment. “Yeah, kid. It’s fine. It’s just a scratch.”

It wasn’t fine. Against Peter’s pale torso, the injury to his side gave a stark contrast; all red and aggressive looking. The skin surrounding the wound was mottled with bruises. The wound itself, perhaps once a clean cut, was now a jagged mess likely torn roughly as Peter swung to the Tower. And it was still bleeding. Profusely. 

“Okay,” Bucky began, removing his own shirt to hold against Peter’s side. “Here’s what we’re going to do: I’m going to keep this here to try stop the bleeding; since FRIDAY’s still updatin’, I’m gonna hav-”

Bucky was interrupted suddenly as the accented voice of FRIDAY filled the room, “Update complete.”

“Thank fuck. FRIDAY darlin’, you listenin’?” Bucky looked up to the ceiling as he spoke.

“I am, Sargent Barnes. Mr Parker appears to be hurt. Initiating protocol My Kid Needs Help. Doctor Cho will be up momentarily. Mr Stark has been informed of the situation.” There was a pause before FRIDAY spoke once more, “Incoming call from Tony Stark.”

Without waiting for response, FRIDAY put the call through, and Tony’s panicked voice replaced FRIDAY's through the speakers. “Peter? God, Peter, you better talk to me right now!”

“I’m f-fine Tony,” Peter said, though his voice sounded anything but.

Bucky spoke up quickly before Tony could respond. He needed Peter to stay calm, and he definitely wouldn’t if Tony wasn’t calm too. Looking up at the ceiling again, he said, “Cho’s on her way Tony, he’ll be fine. Kid’s as stubborn as you, he won’t-” Bucky cut himself off when he looked down at Peter, only to find the boy’s eyes closed. “Peter?” He shook Peter lightly. “Peter?!” He tried again, shaking harder, but Peter’s eyes remained closed.

“What’s happening?” Tony’s voice filled the room once more. “Bucky! What’s going on?!”

Bucky ignored Tony for the time being, his soul priority to wake Peter up. He shook the kid again, but there was no response.

***

When Tony finally returned to the Tower, he went straight to the med-bay and was met with a blood-covered Bucky waiting in the hall outside the operating theatre. Now that FRIDAY was up and working again, she – with the help of Karen – had filled Tony in on what happened: stabbed in an alley whilst on patrol; didn’t want to bother anyone so swung himself to the Tower; passed out from blood loss. Now he was in surgery. Well, had been in surgery for the last 20 minutes or so.

Tony sat next to Bucky and sunk down in the seat. “Cho not been out yet?” He asked. He knew she hadn’t been; FRIDAY would’ve said something if she had, but he couldn’t just sit there in the silence. At least asking questions would make him feel like he was doing something.

“No.” Bucky said simply. “I’m sorry, Tony. I shoulda done more. Maybe picked ‘im up and run ‘im down ‘ere myself. Woulda been faster. He might not’ave passed out like he did. I coulda-”

“Stop, Buck.” Tony sighed and put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. He knew what it was like to go down that road, to blame himself for not doing more, for not acting quick enough. Hell, he was starting to do it now. Tony knew Peter was patrolling tonight – he’s got Peter’s patrolling schedule in his diary. He shouldn’t have had FRIDAY updating, he shouldn’t have been at that meeting tonight. If Tony had just been at the Tower, he’d have been able to keep tabs on Peter’s night, like he usually does. Maybe phoned the boy a couple times just to check up. But he didn’t. And now Peter was… “I’m sure you did everything you could.”

Bucky just nodded in response. Whether he agreed or not, no one felt like arguing the point at a time like this.

Tony glanced at Bucky for a moment and really took in the sight. He was shirtless, with blood smeared across his arms and chest from where he’d picked Peter up. His hands were also covered in blood, the clear sign Bucky had done everything he could to stop the bleeding. “You should go wash up, Buck.”

“Huh?” Bucky looked to Tony, then followed the man’s gaze down to his own chest. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll uh, I’ll be right back. Can you ‘ave FRIDAY let me know if anything- if anything happens?”

“Sure.” And with that, Bucky got up and left Tony to wait alone. He pulled out his phone, “FRIDAY, have Karen send you the suit footage. I need to see how it happened.”

***

When Peter did finally wake up, sore and groggy, the first thing he noticed was the warm hand holding his right one. Peeling his eyes open, a more difficult feat than it really should be, he was met with the white walls of the Tower’s med-bay and the sleeping form of Tony Stark. The man was sitting in a chair beside Peter, hunched forward to rest his head on the bed. Even in his sleep, Tony’s firm grip on Peter’s hand didn’t falter. “Mr Stark?” Peter asked quietly, his voice rough from disuse.

Tony shot up at the sudden sound and his eyes found Peter’s immediately. It took a second for him to register that Peter was awake and looking back at him, but when he did, he was up on his feet at once. “Peter! Oh, thank god.” He leaned in to give Peter a hug, careful not to jostle the boy too much, but desperate to have the awake boy in his arms. “Jesus, Pete,” He said as he pulled back from the hug, “I have a heart condition; we’ve talked about this!”

As Peter made to respond, his voice caught in his throat and a series of harsh, dry coughs came out instead. Tony was quick to get Peter a glass of water, and after helping him sit up enough, gave the boy the water to drink.

“Easy, kid. Just take it easy, there you go.” Tony took the glass when Peter was done and put it on the bedside table.

“I’m sorry Mr Stark. I really didn’t think it was that bad.” At least Peter had the decency to look sheepish as he spoke.

“Yeah, I heard. ‘Just a scratch’, right?” Tony didn’t look impressed. “Peter, a stab wound and a scratch: two very different things. I know you’re smart enough to realise that.”

“I know, Mr Stark. I just thought I could handle it. And everyone was busy, I didn’t think It’d be a problem.” Peter looked down at his hands, ashamed to have disappointed Tony.

Tony sighed and reached over to run his hand through Peter’s hair, ruffling it gently and lightly scratching Peter’s scalp. Peter’s eyes closed in contentment at the feeling. “Listen, kid. We’ve been- Kid, would you look at me?” Tony’s hand slipped down to cup the side of Peter’s cheek as Peter turned his gaze to Tony. “There you are. Now listen, because I need you to really understand this. If you ever get hurt. Or if something – anything – happens and you need help. You call me. I don’t care what time it is. I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing. You need me, you call me, and I’m there. Do you understand?”

Peter nodded his head.

“Good. Now, how’re you feeling? And be honest.”

Peter thought for a moment. “Okay, I guess. A bit sore, maybe, but it’s not bad.”

Tony nodded and smiled. “That’s good. You’re just about healed up now, many thanks to Cho. And also, many thanks to that fancy spider healing of yours. A great feature, really, but not one I want to be relying on too often.” Peter laughed at that. “Now scoot over, kid. I’m an old man and that chair does nothing for my back.”

“What are you doing?” Peter asked as he did his best to shuffle over.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Tony asked as he hopped up onto the bed next to Peter. “I’m getting in the bed. Cho says she wants you here for at least another night. And that you need rest. Lots of rest. And you know what? So do I. If you think for a second I’m letting you out of my sight after I thought I might lose- no. Not happening. So, scoot over. Make room. Come on. Chop, chop.” Tony made himself comfortable next to Peter. He was sitting on top of the covers, but that didn’t bother him too much; the med-bay was always a reasonable temperature. As Tony put his arm around Peter, Peter snuggled nicely into Tony’s chest and a warm feeling spread through Tony’s body. It didn’t take Peter long to fall asleep, and Tony followed not long after, content to have his kid safely in his arms.

***

When Peter woke up for the second time, he was still in the med-bay, and still snuggled up against Tony’s chest.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Tony said, putting the StarkPad he’d been working on to the side in order to focus on Peter. He chuckled when Peter let out a stretch, one that almost saw Peter’s hand bump into Tony’s face.

“Alright, on a scale of 1 to 10 – 10 being unbelievable, excruciating pain – how’re you feeling?” Tony asked lightly.

“Maybe a 3?” Peter said honestly. “I’m still a bit tired, and I’m feeling a bit stiff. That might just be because I’ve been laying here for so long. But I feel good.” Peter smiled. “What day is it?”

“Great. It’s nearly midday Thursday and it’s time for you to get up. Cho’s given you the all clear, and Bucky has been cooking up a storm in the kitchen.” Tony climbed out of bed and helped Peter do the same. He stumbled a bit when his feet finally hit the ground and he was standing upright, but after a few seconds, Peter was ready to go.

“Bucky cooks?” Peter asked. He had no idea Bucky could cook.

“Yeah, well I’m not gonna lie, kid. You really scared him.” Tony said honestly. “The cooking, which is actually both cooking and baking, is a recent thing he’s trying. A stress reliever of sorts. It seems to be working, so that’s good. Yesterday he was baking cookies, I’m sure you’ll get to try some of those later. Today it’s an unnecessarily large breakfast, so I hope you’re hungry.”

Peter sometimes liked to bake to relieve stress, so he nodded in understanding. “I’m actually starving.”

***

Tony wasn’t exaggerating when he said breakfast was unnecessarily large. The breakfast spread across the entire kitchen counter and consisted of stacks and stacks of pancakes and waffles, plates full of sausages and bacon and fried eggs, and bowls and bowls of all kinds of fruit.

Turns out, Bucky was an exceptional cook. Everything on the counter was cooked and prepared to perfection, and Peter made sure to shovel in as much as his enhanced metabolism would allow. Which was a lot, but barely made a dent in the amount of food waiting to be eaten. “It’s fine,” Bucky assured him, “It won’t waste. The team should be comin' home later today, and they’ll be hungry. They’ll finish it no problem.” Bucky went on to tell Peter - much in the same way Mr Stark had the day before - that should he ever need help, he was to call Bucky without hesitation. "No matter what it is, Peter. I don't care, little or big. Whatever it is, if you need help, I'll be there in a heartbeat." It certainly meant a lot to Peter to hear it told to him so directly from both Mr Stark and Bucky, and he'd be sure next time to listen to their demands and call for help when he needed it.

When breakfast was over, it was decided that a Star Wars movie marathon was the best way to spend the rest of the day. With Peter still feeling tired and stiff from his injury, and Tony and Bucky mentally exhausted from the stress of the previous days’ events, a quiet afternoon was all anyone really wanted. Heading over to the sofa, Peter noticed a sleek new black one in place of the old white one that he’d no doubt ruined. He plonked himself in the middle of it, with Bucky and Tony snuggling up on either side.

Just as the first movie was beginning to play, and Tony’s hand made its way into Peter’s hair to play with it gently, Bucky held a plate up in front of Peter, “Want a cookie?”

Peter smiled and took two.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for making it to the end! I do hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! xx
> 
> Feedback is always welcome, especially now as I hopefully grow and improve following this beginning.
> 
> Once again, a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all!! xx
> 
> Rebecca xx


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